


Remember

by orphan_account



Series: Are We Cool Yet? [23]
Category: SCP Foundation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:28:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27407335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Wrote this back when i was one of the dramatic shits that put song lyrics in their booksThe song is Growing Old on Bleeker Street by AJRDoc's POV
Series: Are We Cool Yet? [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1974532
Kudos: 7





	Remember

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this back when i was one of the dramatic shits that put song lyrics in their books  
> The song is Growing Old on Bleeker Street by AJR  
> Doc's POV

Once we made it into the apartment, locked the door, and piled a few chairs against it, I could barely take another step.

There were two beds. Peanut set Shy down gently on one, then drew back to keep watch over him. For the time being, it was quiet, it was safe. But Mask...

A stray bullet had caught the edge of him. He has a chip in his side, and a delicate spiderweb of cracks across his face. I'm a little afraid to touch him, but his host is almost done for. I lift him gently, wincing as another shard of him falls to the floor, and place him on the face of a man. He was wandering the halls, saw us, and almost called out.

He wiggles his fingers and stretches himself, getting used to his new dimensions, then sits back, flicking on the bedside lamp. "How bad is it, Doc?"

"It's not too bad."

"Be honest with me."

"I..." I'm just supposed to look him in the face and tell him that he looks like he'll fall apart any moment? That soon, he probably will? "You... I don't think..."

Mask lifts a hand to feel his shattered frame, but I grab it before he reaches. In case he breaks himself.

"That bad, huh?" He tries for a smile, but his face slides back into tragedy.

"Maybe if we're careful, it'll be okay."

He squeezes my hand. I find my gaze slipping to the shattered piece of porcelain on the floor. Maybe... I pull my hand free and open my bag. There has to be something in there. Maybe some resin or sap to hold him together? Here--

I pull out a small vial of pine sap. "Can I try to...?" I trail off.

"Of course, Doc." He leans his head back on the pillow, making it easier for me. I open the vial, and the strong, spicy scent of pine fills the room. I tip some of it onto him, and spread it, using as much pressure as I dare.

"You should lie still for awhile, so it can dry."

"Alright."

He moves his arm aside, an open invitation. I take it, lying down and curling into his side, both for my sake and his. He strokes my hair absentmindedly.

His words take me by surprise. "You know we can't keep getting lucky, right?"

Lucky is not exactly how I'd describe our situation. We've already lost Larry, Mask is hurt, we're on the run in an alien world. But maybe we are lucky, that so many of us made it so far.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying... as horrible as it sounds, I might not be around much longer."

I press my face into the warmth of his side. "Don't say that."

"Someone has to say it. I think it'll be easier, this way. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe I'm not, but as long as our luck holds out, will you stay with me, my dear?"

I feel the prickles of tears in my eyes. "I'll always stay with you."

"We'll get to see a bit of this world together, like we wanted," he says. "Hold each other close, while we can."

"Yes." I vow, no matter what happens, I want to make each of his days the best of his life. I want him to be happy. I want us to be happy. "Will you... will you sing for me?"

"Of course, my dear.

No point in dreaming if you're alone  
No point in walking without the road  
No point in crying without that someone there beside you  
Saying it will be OK

I'll take my time  
I'll take my time  
You cannot rush  
What can't be timed

And its tough believing  
There's someone living out there  
Happier than me  
Happier than me

We may be lost  
And gone forever  
The rain will wash our memory  
But when we cry  
We cry together  
Like it was meant to be

I woke up last night from a dream  
That we'd grow old on Bleecker Street  
Sit by the fire and I'd play my guitar  
But dreams are only dreams

And then I wonder when we leave  
Will the moon still be white  
And the river green  
Sometimes I wonder if we matter at all  
If we're not written down  
Who will remember now?

We may be lost  
And gone forever  
The rain will wash our memory  
But when we cry  
We cry together  
Like it was meant to be

We may be lost  
And gone forever  
The rain will wash our memory  
But when we cry  
We cry together  
Like it was meant to be"


End file.
